


Bittersweet Dreams

by Vexie



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Widojest - Freeform, impossible love, minor touch starved caleb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-11-14 11:18:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18051518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vexie/pseuds/Vexie
Summary: -Companion to "Blue Eyes"-"Are you secretly in love with me?"In another world, another life, Caleb reaches out for Jester and pulls her close to him.In another world, maybe he can change things—believe in a happy ending.But he’s not in another world. He’s in this one.





	Bittersweet Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> Just a note, you don't need to have read Blue Eyes to understand this one. It's kind of the same story but with the roles reversed. This is Caleb's side of the encounter while Blue Eyes is Jester's side. You can read them in either order. Or only one. That's also fine.

               A thousand curses in a disparity of languages filter their way through Caleb’s head. He’s been too well trained and has spent far too long building these walls to have let them down like that. Even for a second.

               Sure, it had been a very stressful moment with so much going on. His perfect memory puts him back in his own shoes—backed into a corner with two of the Cerberus Assembly walking unchecked around the town they’re slowly circling in their wagon. And his companions all staring at him, flooding him with questions, pushing him for clarification that he can’t give. The flames flicker at the edge of his vision, the ghost of old magic writhes under the skin of his arms. And the constant thrumming of his heart against his chest, telling him to _run, run away. Get out of here as fast as you can and get as far away as your legs will carry you._ And still, questions and questions. Questioning his past, his plans, his _loyalty_. It’s a lot, it’s too much.

               _“Are you secretly in love with me?”_ Jester’s voice cuts through the whirlwind, light and teasing, calling upon the joke she’s uses whenever she feels like things are getting too tense. He’s startled, though. In the midst of all this truth, when he’s so exposed before them all, he forgets, for just a moment, that this is her joke. _How does she know?_ When did he slip up? What must she think…especially now? His eyes find hers, searching for answers. It’s only when he sees confusion enter her expression that he realizes his mistake. A joke. A trick. Just another prank in his books. He drops his gaze and returns to the inquisition without responding to her.

               And that’s that.

               Until that's _not quite_ that.

               “The other day, I asked if you were secretly in love with me and you looked at me really weird. Like _really weird_. And I thought maybe it was because everyone else was around. So now that it’s just you and me, I want to know for _real_. Are you in love with me?” Jester asks, her voice almost sharp as she flings the words at him. They find their mark, catching him by surprise, forcing a gasp from his lungs.

               _Foolish,_ he thinks at himself with disdain. That’s why she’s been giving him those looks for the past few days. And why she was so nervous when she approached him just now. He should have guessed. Should have done something to patch that breach before something like this happened. 

               Once upon a time, Caleb ( _Bren_ ) had what Eodwulf fondly referred to as “dumb charm.” He was terrible at knowing when someone was into him, but every partner who had approached him had found the trait endearing. Somewhere in his memory, Eodwulf laughed, shaking his head. Some things don’t change, he thinks.

               Once upon a time, Bren would have been delighted. Jester kneels before him, the warm light of his dome making her impossibly soft. Bren would have blushed, reaching out to take her hand. He would have likely asked her if she would be terribly upset if he were in love with her, his voice shy. If she confirmed that it was quite the opposite, he’d have flashed that half-smile he learned from Eodwulf and leaned in to kiss her.

               Once upon a time.

               _“I couldn’t just leave you out in the hall all night. Us Blumenthal kids have to stick together, right?”_

_He takes a step closer, tilting his head, feigning innocent curiosity._

               “ _Is that all?_ _Would you have invited me to your room if I were Eodwulf?”_

_Astrid blushes. They’re so close now—almost touching._

_“I…no. No, I wouldn’t have.”_

_Bren smiles._

_“Good.”_

               But Caleb isn’t Bren anymore. Jester’s face transforms from nervous hesitancy to alarm. She reaches toward him and Caleb flinches backward, dodging her touch. She freezes and slowly pulls her hand back. Her face is guarded, violet eyes wide.

               “I—” she stammers. “I didn’t mean…”

               _Now you’ve done it. She thinks she did something wrong,_ Caleb chides himself. _Say something, stupid._  

               “I am sorry,” he manages to say, voice barely above a whisper. “I was not expecting…” he trails off. What? He wasn’t expecting her to catch that look? Wasn’t expecting her to ever come talk to him about it? Wasn’t expecting her to take notice of him?

               “No, I’m sorry,” Jester says, looking down. “I wasn’t…mad or anything. It’s totally okay. You can’t help you who you fall in love with. I just…I was just curious.”

               Caleb feels a laugh bubble up inside him, verging on the hysterical. _You can’t help who you fall in love with_. Doesn’t he know it. Thousands of small moments crash down upon him. Suddenly his keen mind is showing him nothing but Jester—Jester smiling up at her mother, radiant and content. Jester unleashing her giant lollipop or a hoard of tiny unicorns on their enemies with a savage grin. Jester’s violet-flushed cheeks and wide grin as they waltzed. Her gentle kiss on his forehead as she tucked him into bed. Jester sitting next to him all those afternoons while they were out to sea, her blue skin glowing in the warm sun, bluer even than the ocean. Jester winking at him, handing his books back with new secrets to find. Jester’s delighted laugh when he tries to joke back at her.

               He knew. Of course he knew. How could he not? But he’s never allowed himself to say it, not even in his head. It’s forbidden. It’s not even possible, so why go there?

               Caleb looks at Jester now, her face troubled as she studies her hands, folded neatly atop the pile of her skirts. For once, that mask she wears all the time drops. She’s not the laughing trickster, but the lonely girl he gets glimpses of every now and again. The girl who misses her mother and was hurt by Fjord.

               _This is not your fault_ , he wants to say. But how to explain that?

               He takes a deep breath, using every ounce of his training and some of Beauregard’s to force himself to relax. He chooses his words carefully, speaking slowly in a soft voice. 

               “Jester, you are…one of the most amazing people I have ever met. Form the moment I met you, I have been charmed by your joy and your creativity, amazed by your confidence, and delighted by your smile. You make the world a less awful place wherever you go, even for someone like me—which I never expected and am forever grateful for.” He pauses, the truth of it hitting him as he says it. “My life is better with you in it. All of ours are.”

               He can’t look at her. He looks at the ground, feeling his face catch fire. _Why_ did he inherit his father’s complexion? But it’s done. Now she knows. He doesn’t have to look at her to hear her smile.

               “You _are_ in love with me,” she says, her voice breathless and full of so much joy and _hope_ that it sends an ache all through him. He looks at her then. Sure enough, her eyes are dancing, pleased grin spreading across her face, lighting it up. He tries to give her a smile back.

               _Oh, Jester_.

               He tries to imagine it, reaches out for it, and can’t. The two of them, living together in a house in Nicodranus so Jester can be close to her mother, waltzing in the front room, walking by the ocean together as the sun sets. It feels so false, like one of the cons he and Nott used to pull, shouting false promises to hopeful peasants. It sounds like a fairytale, nothing more. The real only future he can see is all the ways he’ll hurt her. He finds only fire and destruction and his lies eating her alive. He sees the betrayal on her face when he is finally able to do what he’s set out to do. He sees the disgust in her eyes when she finally learns what he really is, what’s done, what he’ll always be. He sees her tears when she walks away, and her still form when she doesn’t. There is no future here. He lowers his eyes. 

               “Ja, I might have been, once. A very long time ago,” he admits, trying to keep the longing from his voice. “But I’m afraid…I can’t.”

               “Why not?” He hears the wound in her voice. “Is it because of that girl from your past? Astrid?”

               _Astrid_. He forgets, sometimes, that he mentioned her that night. It had been a slip—for just a moment he’d let himself float on the music, let himself remember the last time he’d danced _before._ Glancing at the rejection and doubt on Jester’s face, he regrets it even more. It’s the same expression she often wore when she thought no one was looking while Fjord courted Avantika.

               _No, I danced with you,_ he doesn’t say, though he wishes he’d had the frame of mind to do so at the time. It had been Jester’s twirling skirts, her high giggle, the glow of her cheeks he’d seen the night they’d danced. He had danced with Jester.

Astrid is…and always will be complicated. He sees her smile, her perfect skin always lit in the gentle glow of magic light in those stolen early morning hours, the love they spent and the scant few hours of sleep they caught together worth every bit of exhaustion the next day. He sees her worried expression, face glowing orange and red in the light of the fire he set, looking down at him and up at Eodwulf, neither of them knowing what to do. He sees her grief and cold disappointment in the last glimpse he had of her, as she held him still on one side as Eodwulf held him on the other for Ikithon to inspect and condemn. That door closed a very long time ago. And with it, though not related to Astrid at all, went all his chances at love, at any kind of a life, all that shining promise. It’s gone.

“Nein,” Caleb says in response to Jester’s question. “This is because of…of me.”

“If it’s just you, then why can’t you…change it?” Jester asks.

Caleb drops his face into his hands, laughing. He can’t help it. _Jester, Jester, you are too pure for me. You don’t belong here._ He looks up, shaking his head. She looks bewildered.

In another world, another life, he reaches out for her and pulls her close. In another world, maybe he can change things—believe in a happy ending. But he’s not in another world. He’s in this one. In this one, he can do nothing but close his eyes. He doesn’t want to watch her face as he speaks. He can’t watch her expressions—he’s too afraid of what he might see.

“Ah, Jester,” he sighs. “I told you that I was glad you see good in me. I want you to see that—maybe it’s selfish of me, but you…you can almost make me believe it sometimes. But there are many things you do not know about me. I am not as good as you think I am. And there’s nothing—” his voice catches as he subconsciously touches the dark, empty place that used to be his heart. It will ever be an open wound. “There’s not enough of me left to give to someone else anymore. Especially to someone who deserves the whole world and more. I wish I had something to give you, but I do not. I have nothing for you. I have nothing to give to anyone.”

“Caleb I…I’m sure whatever you have would be enough,” her voice is gentle, almost shy as she looks up at him with hopeful eyes.

 _Please don’t do this_ , he thinks, taking the breath to say it, but Jester rushes on.

“I wouldn’t ask for the whole world, _obviously_ ,” she says, rolling her eyes. “If we were to…you know. _Be together_. I would only want you…whatever there is of you.”

“Jester…” he says, unable to keep the plea from his voice. _Stop, please. I can’t._

“Maybe I could even help you find the rest of you,” Jester says. “I’ve got healing _and_ mending magic, you know.”

If only it were that simple. If only it were something she could fix with her magic…wonderful though it is. If only this were one of the books they both read, where the brooding, damaged hero can be saved by the gentleness of the lover…the rescuer becoming the rescued. But he’s no hero, and some damage can’t be undone. What does he expect her to do? Listen to his nightmares where he relives the murder of his parents? Hold him through his panic attacks? Stand aside when…when _that day_ comes? Accept whatever outcome happens, whatever sacrifice he has to make?

Continue to love him when he’s long gone, living out the rest of her days to wander alone?

That isn’t something he can subject her to. He is forfeit and there is nothing that can be done about that. She deserves better than to share the burden of that fate.

“Nein, I am afraid not,” Caleb says, shaking his head. _Though I wish it were not so_. “I was lost a long time ago and I don’t think anything will ever fix that. I know it’s hard to hear, but I cannot give you what you are looking for.” He keeps his voice firm, though regret and panic flutter wildly in his chest as Jester’s face falls. She looks down, but she’s not fast enough to hide the tears welling in her eyes.

“Oh, I see,” she says, using the halfhearted cheerfulness she’s used to Fjord so many times since the pirates.

Caleb curses. This time he does reach out for her, tilting her chin up so she has to meet his eyes. The motion causes one of her held-back tears to drop, tracking down her cheek. He watches it, heart sinking further with its descent.

_You deserve someone who won’t make you cry like this. Someone who will make your happiness a priority. You deserve a happiness that I will never be able to give you, that I will never experience._

“I did not mean to hurt you,” he says softly. “I am sorry.”

“I’m fine, really,” Jester says, wiping at her eyes. Just like she was fine after the Iron Shepherds, and after Avantika. He wants to tell her he doesn’t believe her—he’s gotten her to talk to him before, but this time he’s the source. There’s nothing he can do to fix this.

“It’s just…not fair,” she adds, some of the false cheer dropping away from her voice.

“I know,” Caleb whispers, lowering his eyes.

If he could take it all back, he would. If he could be the one to make her happy, to give her what she’s looking for, he’d do it in a heartbeat. He never wants her to be sad—especially not because of him. Jester deserves all the happiness in the world—all that he destroyed and more.

Two arms wrap around his middle as Jester scoots forward, all but sitting in his lap. She presses her face to his chest. A noise somewhere between surprise and protest escapes Caleb, but Jester only wraps her arms around him tighter.

“Even if you can’t love me, I’m going to love you, okay, Caleb?” she says into his chest.

“Jester…” Caleb warns, though his own voice sounds strangled and odd to him.

“I’ll love you as a _very good friend_ ,” Jester says, pronouncing each word precisely. She leans back and smiles at him, reaching up to rest one hand against the side of his face. For a moment, he’s distracted. Her hand is so warm and impossibly soft, and it’s been…gods…how long since someone showed him affection like this? It feels better than he’ll let himself admit. Subconsciously, he leans in to her touch. Her words catch up with his mind. _A friend_. He smiles at her. That, maybe he can accept.

“Good,” he says. “I treasure your friendship very much.”

Jester’s smile widens. Caleb is starting to feel better about this exchange, reaching out in his mind to close this door like all the other doors in his mind that he must never open, but before he can, he feels Jester’s other hand on the other side of his face, then her lips on his and….and…

The universe falls apart into blue stars, breaking away until it’s nothing but the two of them. It’s just her lips, soft and sugary-sweet moving against his, her left thumb moving against his cheek, fingertips holding his head in place—each one a burning star in the constellation of her hand, the scent that’s purely _her_ , her weight perched on his lap. He is warmer than he’s been in a very long time, drinking in her touch with a thirst he hadn’t known he felt.  He’s living only because she’s keeping him here, holding him, _kissing_ him. Jester is kissing him. His mind, always busy with several things, can only focus on her. It’s so _quiet_ , so peaceful.

And just like that, it’s over, leaving him breathless and feeling like a fire has gone out. Everything seems colder and darker. She stands, the purple flush crossing her cheeks like it had when they’d danced. He raises a shaking hand to his lips. He can still feel the ghost of her lips there. He’s caught between wanting to wipe the sensation away and wanting to hold it there forever. He watches her as she beams at him, not a trace of shyness on her face.

“And if you ever decide you do have something to give…we can talk again, okay?” Jester says. “I won’t bring it up again until you do. I promise.”

He can’t protest, can’t argue. He can’t do anything but stare. Her face softens, some of the mischief draining away, leaving the fondness he tells himself he hasn’t seen before.

“I love you, Caleb,” she says, then ducks out of the dome before his mind—suddenly sluggish as it’s never been before—struggles to process her words.

Caleb exhales shakily, remembering that he has to breathe. He moves backward, leaning against the wall Caduceus had carved out, seeking out the darkest part of their shelter. He keeps his fingers pressed against his lips. They still taste like her.

The door in his mind won’t close. Caleb stares into the dark without truly seeing for a long time.  He feigns sleep when Caduceus pops his head into the dome to offer food, and when the other start making up their beds for the night.

“Wow, I guess he was really worn out today,” Nott whispers, taking her place at the bend of his knees.

“It’s been a long day for everyone,” Jester says, her voice easy, cheerful. As if nothing’s happened. As if nothing’s changed.

              

When the next day dawns (figuratively, of course. No dawn can penetrate the tunnels), it’s as if the whole thing were a dream. Caleb firmly closes the door in his mind, with the dreams of a house by the sea, of waltzes, of reading by a fire, of maybe one or two ginger-and-blue children, of love and happiness and peace locked away safely behind it.

He peers into the room sometimes, when he catches just the right sparkle in Jester’s violet eyes, the upward curve of her plump blue lips and the memory of one quick kiss. It’s enough, he thinks. Enough just to have a glimpse of that dream world that will never come to pass, painful though it may be.

It’s enough to dream.

**Author's Note:**

> ...this may be cheating and slightly self-indulgent, but I really just wanted to write Caleb's perspective of the kiss I wrote in Blue Eyes and kind of...explore his thought process? 
> 
> Let me know what you think...I have complicated feelings about this one. 
> 
> For the three people waiting, I am working on the next chapter to "No Looking Back" but that's a lot more worldbuilding than I expected and I'm simultaneously working on cosplay for an upcoming con, so my creative time is very divided. 
> 
> <3 Thank you for reading!!


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